


Isolophobia

by talesoffangirl



Series: Gamophobia [2]
Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Soulmate AU, There's kind of sex but there's not really sex, You'll see what I mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9814871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesoffangirl/pseuds/talesoffangirl
Summary: Luke finally looked up and examined the room he was in. It wasn’t his. When he peered over the edge of the bed, he could make out the silhouettes of different articles of clothing on the floor: a shirt, pants, a belt, and even two socks lying haphazardly beside a pair of boxers. He wasn’t dreaming. It had actually happened.So why were his clothes the only ones on the floor? Why was he alone in bed? Why was there panic building in his chest and clawing at his throat? Why was his brain screaming at him that he’d made a terrible mistake?____Luke wakes up the morning after and gets stuck inside his head.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place directly after the ending scene of Pistanthrophobia. Enjoy!

Luke woke up warm. Wrapped in a blanket of heaven that was pulled up to his nose and surrounded by flannel sheets that radiated happiness in the form of blissful heat. A lazy smile stretched across his lips. Hell, his bed had never felt quite so comfortable before. He wondered vaguely what made this morning so different than any other morning, and almost immediately after the thought crossed his mind he decided he didn’t care. Curling himself up, Luke pressed his face into his pillow and drew in a long, deep breath, ready to drift back into his wonderful sleep as the scent of cinnamon filled his nose.

He blinked his eyes open.

_Cinnamon…?_

Cinnamon. Warm cinnamon, like the rich smell of baked apple cinnamon muffins or fresh cinnamon toast or a steaming cup of coffee with cinnamon-dusted whipped cream on top. And when he breathed in once more he was rewarded with the clean smell of soap and soft laundry detergent. Luke had never exactly paid attention to the way his bed smelled before, but somehow he knew it was off. Why would it smell like cinnamon and plain soap, when he used coconut scented shampoo and washed his sheets with lavender scented detergent – and by him washing his sheets, he meant Guy, who insisted that the lavender would help with his anxiousness.

He sat up, and instantly regretted it. Pain shot through his lower back, his muscles protesting the movement. Without thinking, he tensed, which was an equally bad idea as fresh pain ran through his nerves. Luke moved a hand around to his back, pressing tenderly, trying to figure out what he’d pulled.

The realization hit him all at once, and it made him clench, which made him ache even more.

_Holy shit._

He remembered. Remembered lying down. Remembered touching, being touched, hands slipping under his shirt. Remembered _Asch_ , Asch being there with his gentle hands and guiding Luke through the motions. Remembered Asch parting his legs and pressing liquid-slicked fingers inside of him and then remembered _Asch_ —

Luke ripped the blankets away from where they’d fallen over his waist. The red-inked tattoo stared at him from his hip; the moon grinned at him and each individual star in the sea winked at him. They were reminding him, reminding him of how Asch had kissed him there, had traced each line and curve with his tongue and had nipped at the inside of his thigh. He remembered Asch’s mouth moving over, kiss by kiss, until he was right where Luke so desperately wanted him and Luke remembered _moaning_ —

The redhead finally looked up and examined the room he was in. It wasn’t his. His pale blue walls were replaced with plain white ones and his dark blue comforter was now black. Sunlight streamed in through the closed blinds, thin beams of brightness that dimly lit up the otherwise dark room. When he peered over the edge of the bed, he could make out the silhouettes of different articles of clothing on the floor: a shirt, pants, a belt, and even two socks lying haphazardly beside a pair of boxers. He wasn’t dreaming. It had actually happened.

So why were his clothes the only ones on the floor? Why was he alone in bed? Why was there panic building in his chest and clawing at his throat? Why was his brain screaming at him that he’d made a terrible mistake?

He ran a hand through his bangs and reminded himself to breathe.

_You did it for a reason. You wouldn’t do it without a reason. You wouldn’t have waited so long without a reason._

He wouldn’t have been willing to wait if he didn’t have a reason to.

_You love him. He loves you. He told you that. He’s never lied to you. He said he wouldn’t._

_So stop freaking out, get a grip, and go._

He did his best to push all other thoughts away, to quash the unfortunately familiar anxiety and fear rising in his chest, and focused on going through simple motions. Untangle his legs from the covers. Carefully bend over to grab his clothes. Get dressed. Look around for his phone. Find it on the nightstand, and when he grabbed it, realized Asch’s was sitting right next to it. He grabbed his, too. Then he ran his hand through his hair again, his fingers getting caught on knots and inevitably giving up halfway through, and left the room.

He hadn’t exactly doubted that he’d woken up in Asch’s bed, in Asch’s room, but once he stepped out into the hallway, it was like the knowledge solidified itself into his mind. Luke was no stranger to the layout of Asch’s apartment; on autopilot, his feet turned his body towards the direction of the living room and started walking.

The TV was on, playing the morning news at a low volume. The blinds were open and the curtains drawn back, lighting up the room with sunshine instead of electricity. The couch, the place that he and Asch had spent countless hours of countless nights cuddling, was empty, with the pillows still pushed to one side and the blanket still bunched up in a messy pile from the night before. Luke crossed the room, the carpet plush beneath his toes, and headed for the kitchen.

The smells and sounds of cooking took over his senses; he heard sizzling oil popping in a pan, heard gentle clicks and taps of utensils being used, smelled the undeniable aroma of frying bacon and fresh brewed coffee. And when Luke paused in the doorway, toes just touching the edge where the tile of the kitchen began, he felt his entire being get lighter as the panic and fear and _stupidity_ were lifted from his shoulders.

Asch stood at the stove with his back to the door. His long, silky red hair that Luke had been obsessed with since day one – _he remembered curling his fingers through it and pulling as he arched up, desperate to get Asch closer_ – fell down to his waist in a smooth wave. He was wearing a pair of baggy black sweatpants that just barely hung off his hips; there was a single strip of creamy pale skin visible – _he remembered sliding his hands up Asch’s shirt, touching over his back and stomach and chest and finally pulling it off and Asch was so damn beautiful –_ between the waistband of his pants and the tips of his hair. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Luke’s gaze moved to take in what he could of the other’s bare arms – _he remembered Asch’s arms going around him, guiding his body where he wanted it and holding him and never letting him go_ – whenever he moved or shifted. Luke watched, transfixed on a form he’d dedicated to memory, as Asch’s head tipped ever so slightly to one side and the strands of crimson covering his left shoulder fell free, and the tips of the wings of the bird on his shoulder came into view – _he remembered how the dark blue ink felt beneath his touch, how it was smooth and perfect just like the rest of Asch and Asch had shuddered and gasped at Luke’s touch_ –

“Is milk and sugar okay?”

_“Is this okay?”_

Luke blinked. “Huh?”

His boyfriend turned, and without thinking Luke allowed their gazes to lock, and fell in love with Asch’s eyes all over again.

“You finished the last of your vanilla coffee creamer the last time you were over, and I haven’t gone grocery shopping since then.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, milk and sugar is fine. Thanks.”

Asch hummed in reply and turned back around. The milk carton and sugar bowl were already next to him on the counter, like he’d known what Luke’s answer would be before he’d even asked – though he knew damn well that Luke hated the taste of straight black coffee to the point where some mornings he wouldn’t even kiss him if he could smell it on Asch’s breath. “Breakfast is on the island. The last of the bacon is almost finished, so help yourself.”

Breakfast was pancakes with maple syrup and fried bacon on the side. Two plates were set out on the island, along with two napkins and two forks, and when Asch set a fresh mug of coffee down for him, two of those as well. The exact opposite of everything Luke had found when he woke up, and he felt horrible for expecting anything less from his boyfriend.

Ignoring the food and the hunger now clawing at his stomach, Luke walked up behind the other redhead and wrapped his arms around him. Asch didn’t even pause, continuing to flip over the frying pieces of bacon with his right hand and sliding his left one along Luke’s arm. Luke nosed his hair out of the way and fit his face into the crook of Asch’s neck. He breathed in the scent of warm cinnamon.

“How do you feel?”

“Mmm, I’m okay. A little sore.” He smiled, because now remembering why his entire lower body felt so sore made his heart flutter.

“You could have stayed in bed. I would’ve brought you food eventually.” Luke giggled into Asch’s neck and hugged him around his middle. He earned a squeeze of his wrist in return.

He peeked over Asch’s shoulder, watching for a minute as his boyfriend maneuvered a spatula around the pan, checking each slice of bacon one last time before clicking the heat off. As his eyes followed one piece’s journey from pan to nearby plate, Luke quietly admitted, “I got scared when I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Movement ceased.

“Why?” The question wasn’t malicious. It was blunt and to the point, just like Asch always was. “I get up before you all the time.”

“I know.” He did know, but his paranoid mind hadn’t recalled that fact at the time. “I know, I just… This time was different.”

_I just thought I was dreaming everything that happened, or even worse that I wasn’t and you’d just left because you got what you were waiting for and didn’t want to keep dealing with me and my stupid commitment issues._

Luke pressed his face further into his boyfriend’s neck, standing on his tiptoes to crane his head far enough over his shoulder. “I’m sorry…”

_I’m sorry I didn’t trust you._

He felt Asch’s shoulder shift beneath him, felt Asch gently nudge him off so he could turn around. Hands cupped his face and tilted his head back, and even though they were the same height Luke found himself staring up at the other redhead, who in turn stared down at him with a fond look in his emerald eyes.

“This time wasn’t different, and no time after this will be either. Sex doesn’t change things. People do. And I for one did enough changing in high school to last a lifetime.” Luke smiled, and felt Asch thumb at the stretched corners of his mouth. “You plan on changing anytime soon?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Then don’t be stupid next time. Use that bird-brain of yours.”

Now Luke laughed, and he shoved carefully at the other’s shoulder, aware of the still hot pan behind him. “You’re an asshole.” But he rose back onto his tiptoes and pressed his lips against his boyfriend’s, ignoring the underlying taste of coffee that filled his mouth as he did so.

_He remembered panting against Asch’s chest, exhausted and sweaty and sticky, and Asch was above him with his lips against Luke’s forehead, rapid breaths washing over his skin as he whispered to him, and Luke had never felt more loved._

“I love you,” Luke mumbled once they parted. “I _really_ love you, okay?”

Asch placed a finger over his lips, silencing him. His other hand went to Luke’s hip, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his pants and brushing over the tattoo he now knew was there. Luke’s breath hitched. His skin tingled beneath Asch’s soft and sure touch.

“I know you, Luke,” Asch said. He’d comforted Luke hundreds of times, but even so, Luke had never heard him use a tone quite like this one: gentle, soft, loving, but still firm, still demanding that Luke believe what he was saying. “I know that you’re afraid. I know how much all of this has taken out of you. And I know that this,” he pressed the pad of his thumb against his hip, against where the moon was etched into his skin, “wouldn’t be there if you hadn’t been absolutely sure about us. About me.” Asch kissed him again. “I love you, and I trust you. So trust yourself.”

Luke closed his eyes and nodded slowly, leaning back in for another kiss, and Asch obliged him. He let his arms wind around the darker redhead’s neck, let his fingers brush over Asch’s own tattoo and marveled at the way the muscle beneath the skin twitched and rippled under his touch. The night before flickered across his mind’s eye, but Luke let it go in favor of enjoying what he had right now. He didn’t need to cling onto the memory of last night. Not when a promise of many more last nights was being held out before him on a silver platter, his for picking, and he was hungry.

Seriously, Luke was starving, and he pulled back to say as much. “Enough of your sap,” he teased. “Let’s get on with this morning after bit.”

“Enough with your stupidity,” Asch shot back seamlessly, turning Luke around by the shoulders and pushing him towards the island. “Go sit down. I’ll heat everything up since I’m sure it’s cold by now.” Obeying, Luke made his way over to one of the two stools placed at the island, but not before chiming a sugary sweet “Love you!” over his shoulder.

Asch grumbled something profane with his name in it, and Luke had never felt more in love.

**Author's Note:**

> A complete masterpost explaining this AU can be found [here](http://talesoffangirl.tumblr.com/post/157506059210/soulmate-au-masterpost)


End file.
